She was my niece
by Steph-Schell
Summary: Miles wishes he could have protected Charlie better. (the cover for this story is the dress Charlie is wearing in it)


Miles had once owned the second grandest house in Philly. It has been his due as Commaning General. Of course he left all that behind when he ran after attempting to kill Bass. And he had hoped it was behind forever.

But now here he was, surrounded by wealth he didn't want. Locked away in a glided cage like an animal at a zoo. A tiger, prowling around and growling at the visitors. They knew he was dangerous. But they also knew he was trapped.

Miles had trapped himself even further. He couldn't stand to see what had become of the world so he kept to his bedroom, bathroom and, on occasion, the sitting room next door. Right now he was perched on the window seat in his bedroom with the blackout drapes cracked. Between his drinking and his depression he was no longer a fan of sunlight. Or any sort of strong light. Maybe tonight he would go to the roof to look at the stars. If he was lucky he would fall this time.

For all he had let himself go to waste, he was still a soldier. His senses were still honed for danger. So he was aware when the front door opened and new people entered. Miles registered clicking heels and six pairs of boots. His niece had come to visit.

"Go to hell," he called when she knocked politely. Like her entrance hadn't echoed through the entire house.

"Miles, I want to visit."

"Not in the mood."

"Please? Just to talk a little?"

He was a sap. "The goon squad stays out side."

Miles could hear muffled arguments. And Charlie snapping at her guards. "They'll stay here."

"Enter."

He winced at the flair of light that accompanied her arrival. "How do you see anything in here?"

"That's the whole point of blackout drapes."

"Can I please open them?"

Miles scowled at the window. "I have a glass bottle and throbbing veins. Don't tempt me to combine them."

"It's so dark and musty in here," she clucked. "Can't we at least talk in the sitting room?"

Miles seriously considered telling her to fuck off. But his legs were starting to cramp. Oh, and he was a sap. "Close the damn drapes," he ordered.

"You won't be able to see still."

"I told you, I don't want to."

Charlie clucked her tongue once more and made her way to the sitting room. Miles noticed she was in one of her corset dresses. He wondered how she managed to squeeze into them anyway. This one was black with a purple pattern all over. It was sleeveless and hit almost at her knees. The neck had a thin piece cut out, probably so she could breathe, and there were ruffles in purple and black at the neck, shoulders and hips. Miles always wondered if Charlie wore these everywhere in the Republic or if they were just for him.

She closed the curtains like he asked but the gap she left was wider than the one he sat at. "Come sit," she called.

Miles got to his feet and stumbled over. "So what's so important you had to clear your schedule to come talk to me?"

Charlotte frowned as she took in the clear sight of him. "I thought I ordered only one bottle of whiskey to be delivered to this house a week."

Miles slouched in his chair. "I must have missed the memo."

"Miles, I wish you would take better care of yourself. It's like you don't even remember the fever you barely got over."

Oh Miles remember that one quite well. Charlie had raced back from her honeymoon just to care for him. Miles considered that a small victory. It would have been a larger one but he had actually recovered. Despite the fact that he had both contracted and exacerbated the fever by generally not taking care of himself. "Are we really going to do this?" he sighed.

"Well I'd prefer not to fight but we somehow always end up there."

"I wonder why," Miles drawled, moving to pour himself another glass.

Charlotte pulled the bottle from his hand and was pleased when he didn't resist. "Actually, I did come for a purpose," she said, tucking the bottle away by her feet.

"So state your business and leave me to my slow death by alcohol poisoning."

"Don't' talk like that. I don't' want you to die. I'll be all alone then."

"You'd have *Sebastian*," Miles sneered.

Charlotte blinked wide blue eyes at him and suddenly she looked more like his niece than the woman that helped a dictator take over the continent. "You promised you wouldn't leave me," she said in a tiny voice.

Christ, he was such a sap. "I know," he muttered.

Charlotte shook her head. "It doesn't have to be this way, you know. Sebastian wants to forgive you. You could join us, Miles. Your old position is just waiting for you to take it back. Think of all the things we could do together, the three of us."

Miles glanced at the windows. "You two seem to do well enough without me."

"Do you always have to be so ornery?"

"Yes."

"Why? I'm happy. You should be happy for me."

"I find it very hard to be happy for someone who is so obviously being controlled."

"Sebastian loves me."

Miles let out a laugh that sounded like glass breaking. "You're his puppet. Nothing more."

"Liar. Sebastian is the only one around here who treats me as if I'm actually a woman rather than a child."

Miles couldn't' even pretend to look at her anymore. "He's got his hooks so deep in you, you don't even realize it," he sighed. "And nothing I say will change that."

Charlotte flicked imaginary dust from her skirt. "I can see we won't be able to have a civil conversation while you're in this mood. So I guess I'd better just make my announcement and leave."

"Go for it," Miles gestured.

"Sebastian and I are leaving in two days to ride up to Boston. We'll be there for about a week. I'd like your word that you won't try anything while we're gone. The city is open to you of course, but please…be considerate."

"Considerate," Miles snorted.

"Miles, please. I want to know you'll be here when I return. And I want your word on that. That you'll stay here and you won't cause trouble."

Miles really wanted his whiskey right now. "My word," he agreed.

Charlie lit up like the sun. Too bright for Miles' eyes. "Thank you."

The sincerity of the statement made it all the worse. Miles swallowed. "You'd better go."

Charlie kissed his cheek. "I'll be back to visit before we leave. Sebastian will come too."

He didn't say anything when she took the whiskey with her. Every bone in his body ached and there was nothing he could do about it. Charlie didn't need him promise not to leave. He wouldn't have anyway. Miles was didn't have the strength to take her out of the city by force and he was too weak to leave her behind. It was official. General Matheson was a sap.

Miles blinked at he heard the creak of a door. Silent as a ghost, Nora slipped through one of the many hidden doors. "She gone?"

"She's gone," he nodded. Rachel soon followed Nora out with a new bottle of whiskey and two more glasses.

Rachel sighed as they all settled around the low table. "If you had told me I would one day be afraid of my own daughter, I would have called you a liar." She poured each of them a full glass of whiskey.

"If you had told me that one day all the power would be gone, I'd have called you a liar," Nora stated. They all took a long swallow. "What did the dark queen want?"

"She and the evil overlord are leaving for a vacation in two days. They'll be in Boston for a week."

"Why tell us?" Rachel frowned.

"She wanted my word that I wouldn't' start anything." Both women snorted. "That was my thought."

Nora leaned over to fill his glass once more. "Did she tell you off about your drinking again?"

"There hasn't' been a single visit since the fever that she hasn't brought that up," Rachel pointed out.

"Too bad I won't tell her where I get my supply. Here's to you ladies."

They clicked glasses in a toast. "You know we'd never leave you dry," Nora smiled. Miles winked at her.

Rachel shifted uncomfortably as a thought came to her. "How did you think this will all end?" she asked quietly.

The mood sobered quickly. "If we're unlucky?" Miles shrugged. "Triple suicide."

Nora cocked her head. "And if we're lucky?"

MIles looked down at his swirling whiskey. "Hard to say. Best outcome?" He grinned at them. "Three suicides and a murder."

They all grinned. "I will drink to that," Nora declared.

"As will I," Rachel agreed.

They raised their glasses in another toast.


End file.
